


It’s Sherlock, Jim, But Not As We Know It

by hotchoco195



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Molly, Crack, F/M, Getting to know Sherlock, Jim Being Creepy, Kidnapping, Murder, Pirate!lock, Rape, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Slavery, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and John grew up in the same village. When they find themselves under attack, who can they turn to for help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Sherlock, Jim, But Not As We Know It

**Author's Note:**

> It's pirate crack. Totally, completely the most insane AU I've ever written, and the most rapey too. I usually don't write Jim this way so be warned and take the tags seriously.

Molly closed the door behind them anxiously. “Well?”

John sighed internally. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take your father’s foot.”

She stifled a sob, biting her fist. The surgeon placed a hand on her arm comfortingly.

“I’m sorry Miss Hooper-”

“No, no it’s alright. I know you did the best you could. When, um, when will you operate?”

“This afternoon. I just need to go back for my saw and things.”

She nodded grimly, not meeting his eyes. “We shall expect you then, doctor. Thank you.”

“No trouble. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

He headed down the winding garden path, bag in hand as she hugged herself and watched him go. John turned down the hill towards the village, mentally listing the things he’d need. He’d bring his assistant Stamford too, so Molly wouldn’t have to hold her father down.

Smithfield wasn’t a big place; you could see the entire lone street from the hill where the Hoopers lived. In less than five minutes John was back at his own house, sorting through his tools.

“Stamford? Stamford! I need you to run to the grocer’s and get me more twine.”

John frowned when his orderly didn’t answer. He looked around, poking his head through to the other rooms.

“Stamford?”

The front door burst open and the man wheezed in, leaning heavily against the counter.

“Stamford? What the devil’s the matter with you man?”

“Ship...in the harbour,” he puffed, “They’ve launched boats.”

John blanched. “Pirates?”

Stamford nodded. The doctor immediately laid down his bone saw and went to the chest in the corner, drawing out his musket. He grabbed a long knife and a club and thrust both through his belt.

“Have they warned the others?”

The ringing of the town’s small church bell answered him, and people in the street shrieked and ran for the houses. John tossed a second musket at Stamford and the man half-straightened, following Dr Watson outside. All along the road, other men were emerging from their houses laden down with whatever weapons they could find. John peered over their heads as they moved towards the beach until he spotted the fair hair of the sheriff.

“Dimmock?”

“Ah, Dr Watson. I think you should stay out of the way. We’ll be needing your services before the day’s out.”

“Has someone gone for the army?”

Dimmock laughed cheerlessly. “Closest posting is five miles away. They’re not going to do much for us.”

John gripped his gun tighter. “How many?”

“Three boats, swarming with pirates, against the twenty or thirty of us. It looks grim, John.”

They had reached the sand now, the rocky surface of the coastline shining bright under the sun. The three rowboats were close to shore, close enough John could see the glistening sword blades and striped bandanas of their invaders.

“Right, men, range along this line and don’t let them through! Your women and children are depending on it!” Dimmock yelled.

They formed a loose, clumpy front and waited, John lining up his sights on the nearest pirate. There was a growl that carried across the water when the thieves spotted them, and then they were in range and John fired. His target toppled out of the boat but the pirates fired back and the villagers were forced to duck for cover.

“Stay down, stay down!”

There was a crunch as the boats hit the shallows and then they were swarming up the beach, laying into John’s neighbours with sword and dagger and pistol. He caught the downward swing of a huge blackamoor’s blade on his musket and twisted it from the man’s hands, running him through with his dagger. He turned to grapple with a short but stocky redhead who yelled wildly and seemed to move faster than he should.

He could hear men falling on both sides, but his eyes were glued to his opponent, his club smashing down on the man’s brow. John spun and was struck with something from behind, and as his face hit the gravel he knew no more.

*****

Molly heard the bells like everyone else, but she couldn’t leave her father. She barricaded the door of the cottage and armed herself with a carving knife and broom, crouching by his bedside trying to stay calm. Mr Hooper patted her hand.

“Go, girl. We’re the farthest from the beach. If you run now, they may not even notice. You could get away.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“I’m dying anyway. This rot in my leg won’t stop once yon doctor hacks it off.”

“Stop it. You’ll be fine.”

They fell silent, listening to the noises from the village below. There were screams and gunshots and swearing, and then heavy feet over the earth and the hammering of breaking wood. There were more screams, and Molly huddled further into the corner as she tried to shut it out.

There was a scuffling outside, and voices close enough she could almost make them out; then pattered footsteps on the garden path. Molly stood, bracing herself in the middle of the room between the door and her father. Someone tried the doorhandle roughly and she almost gasped, her heart beating so fast she thought she might faint.

There was a thud and a grunt as the pirates threw themselves against the door, the makeshift furniture wall she’d built behind it wobbling. As the door itself started to give way, the pile tottered more and more until finally the whole thing fell inwards, door included. Two pirates stood outside, their hair matted and terrible, clothes faded and stiff from the seawater. They eyed Molly with a grin and stepped inside, and she screeched, backing up. The one closest reached out a hand and she slashed it with the carving knife.

“Aargh! She cut me!” he clutched at the injured hand.

“You’ll soon learn how we treat uppity wenches, girl!” his partner came forward.

Molly tried to fend him off, stabbing and slashing with the knife but he was bigger and stronger and grabbed her arms, shaking until she dropped the blade. He hefted her up over his shoulder as his companion looked at her father.

“What about this one?” he jerked his head.

“Not much use to us – look at his leg.”

The pirate spared a glance for the mangy blackened flesh and drew his dagger. “Right.”

“No! Father! Leave him alone!” Molly shrieked, wriggling against the restraining hold.

Her father blinked wearily and met his executioner’s eyes. “You shall burn for this, son.”

“You first.”

He sliced the knife quickly across Hooper’s throat and Molly yelled, breaking into bitter sobs as his eyes glazed over and she was carried out of the house. All along the main road women were being dragged from the houses and shops, carried over fallen bodies. Everywhere she looked Molly saw pools of red. No one was moving.

“Got another one.” The pirate carrying her said to someone she couldn’t see.

“Take her to the boats with the others.”

She was jostled along on his shoulder towards the beach, hiding her face at the carnage there. They were almost at the shore when her captor stumbled suddenly, dropping her hard on her side.

“What the devil?”

She lifted her head woozily and looked up. One villager had been alive after all – John Watson held the pirate’s ankle firmly, his own eyes dazed as he breathed heavily. The second pirate drew his sword and she jumped forward.

“No! No, spare him, he’s the doctor! He’s useful to you!”

He considered for a second, tilting his head. “A doctor?”

“Yes, a surgeon. He’s the village apothecary too. Please, please spare him.”

The tripped pirate looked angry, but he pulled himself up and dusted off the sand. “She’s right. He’ll be worth something to the captain.”

“Fair enough.”

He brought the hilt of his sword down on John’s head instead, the doctor instantly going limp. The pirate clutched Molly by her arm as his friend hefted John up and together they shoved the two into a boat with some of the other village women and girls.

“Cast off, boys!”

Molly looked back at the houses, a faint wisp of smoke rising over the roofs as they started to burn. She buried her face in her hands and, like the other women around her, started to weep.

*****

John’s head ached – in two separate places, no less. He tried to sit up but couldn’t, and a cool hand pressed on his shoulder.

“Hush, lie still. You took a few blows.”

“Miss Hooper?” he blinked, opening his eyes. It didn’t help much, as they were in almost total darkness. He could just make out a face above him, looking down with concern.

“Yes. Lie still, doctor.”

“Where are we?”

She pursed her lips. “Aboard the _Spider._ We’re prisoners.”

She held up her hands and for the first time he noticed the chains that bound them. He looked down and found he was wearing them too, as well as shackles around his ankles.

“The village?”

She shook her head. “We’re all that’s left, I think. You, me, and those poor souls.”

He followed her point to the girls huddled in the corner, crying into their aprons. John struggled up and Molly helped, leaning him against the metal bars of the cell.

“Any idea where we’re going?”

She shrugged. “They didn’t say much, just shoved us in here. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

“Thank you, for before. I know what you did for me, and I’m very...grateful.”

“I couldn’t let them kill you.” She looked down.

“All the same, it was very brave.”

Heavy boots tramped down the stairs and John sat up, peering into the dimly lit corridor. A member of the crew approached with a lantern held high, someone following closely behind him. They stopped at the door of the cage.

“Where’s this doctor?” the one with the lamp growled, holding it up to see through the bars.

“Here.” John raised his hand.

“There’s wounded to tend to. Captain wants you on deck.”

“Tell him to go to Lucifer. I won’t minister to scoundrels.”

“It’s either patch them up or go over the side to join the rest of your folk.”

Molly touched his arm and spoke softly. “Please, Dr Watson. I don’t think I could keep going if you weren’t around.”

He sighed and stood. “Did any of you have the foresight to bring my tools from the village?”

They looked at each other guiltily as the second pirate unlocked the door. “Nah, but we’ve got our own proper set. I’m sure it will suffice. Come along.”

“Wait. I’ll need an assistant, since you butchered my old one.”

“Fine.”

He held his hand out to Molly and she shrank back.

“Please, Miss Hooper. I really do need an extra set of hands.”

Drawing herself up she took his hand and let him walk in front of her protectively as they went out into the corridor, a pirate in front and behind. They followed the light up the cramped, turning stairs to the main deck. Crewmen were walking about tending to their chores, while sitting against the cabin wall were a row of despondent, battered pirates. John spared a glance at the horizon but he couldn’t see the shore.

“This way.” His guide prodded him in the back.

Smothering a look of annoyance John got closer. He went to the first man, who had a thick gash across his face and chest.

“My equipment?” John asked as he crouched down.

Two sailors uncovered a calico tarp that held an array of surgical implements, some rusty-looking and outdated and others bright shining new.

“I’ll need brandy or rum if you’ve got it,” John started rolling up his sleeves, “Molly, see if there’s bandages.”

Someone came up behind them and stopped. “Ah, the precious doctor and his little rescuer. Hello dears.”

Molly looked up, frightened at the slick, sinister voice. He had a thick Irish accent but he didn’t look like she expected him to. His hair was very dark and shorter than most men’s, topped with a large stylish black and red hat. The man wasn’t very tall or thick but he held himself in such a way she couldn’t doubt he was a capable killer. His pants and shirt were black, his coat a deep, deep crimson embellished with black twist and buttons. The buckles of his boots shined as much as the sword on his belt.

“Captain James Moriarty. Welcome to my ship!”

 

Molly looked at John quickly before turning her eyes to the deck beneath them. The captain’s gaze unnerved her. John however held himself straighter.

“I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“You sell slaves to the Turks.”

“Clearly. Are you going to be able to fix this sorry lot, doctor?”

“It seems I have no choice. I’ll do what I can for them, I assure you.”

“Good. I’ll have Sebastian keep an eye on you, just in case. Bastian?”

The first mate released the helm to another crewman, trotting down the stairs. _He_ looked like a pirate, tall and solid with scars all along his bare forearms and cheeks, blonde hair dirty but tied back well. The captain was an absolute fop compared to him.

“Sebastian, this is Dr...”

“John Watson.”

“Dr John Watson, and his lovely companion...”

Molly snuck a shy glance at him before looking away again. “Molly.”

“Molly! Isn’t that charming. You’re to keep an eye on them both while they mend our wayward crewmates, alright?”

“Aye, sir.”

Moriarty stepped forward, dragging Molly closer by her chains and tilting her head up with his hand. She and John both stiffened but he merely scanned her face.

“My, you are a pretty thing. We’ll get top dollar for you, make no mistake. Though I’m almost tempted to keep you myself.”

She clenched her jaw and he laughed.

“Don’t fret, sweet. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

He folded his hands behind his back and walked away, leaving her frowning worriedly after him.

“Molly, can you pass me that needle and thread?”

She quickly knelt down and searched through the pile of instruments, handing the needle to John.

*****

They got one bowl of sloppy stew a day, with hard bread on the side. Molly stuck to John tightly, afraid if she didn’t have his quiet strength to lean on she’d end up sobbing and staring into space like the other girls.

“What about you?” she asked one night, “Will they sell you too?”

He shook his head. “The Moorish doctors have their own ways. The captain will probably keep me on to tend his crew.”

She suppressed a wave of panic and took his hand. “Dr Watson, you must promise me you won’t do anything foolish. No matter what the captain asks you must do it, alright? Give him no reason to harm you.”

“And what, become as good as a pirate myself? No, never.” He said fiercely.

“You must live. I couldn’t bear it if...if I thought you might still be killed.”

He spared her a glance and squeezed her fingers. “Very well. I’ll behave.”

They’d been sailing for about a week, kept in the cell since that first day, the sloshing of the waves loud against the wood. Molly was used to the gentle rocking now, but she dreaded a storm almost as much as their arrival.

One afternoon there was a lot of shouting above decks and running about. John stood holding onto the cell bars, trying to hear. Molly came up behind him.

“What is it?”

“I think there’s another ship.”

Someone pounded down the stairs, keys jingling in his hand, and Molly and John backed away from the grating as Sebastian opened the door.

“You, Molly. Captain wants you on deck.”

“What? Why?” John demanded.

“Because he does, surgeon. Move aside.”

Molly threw him a frightened look but stepped forward, following Sebastian. The deck was a flurry of activity, crewmen standing by the cannon and running up and down the rigging. She could see the other ship now, quite close. It was flying a pirate flag as well, and it appeared to be preparing to launch a boat.

“Ah, Miss Molly,” Jim said as they came over to where he stood by the rail, “How are your table manners?”

“Pardon?”

“We’re about to have an illustrious guest, and I find myself short of serving wenches. Think you could manage to dish up without dropping anything?”

“Why me?” she frowned.

“Because you’re the only one not constantly crying, and weeping women bore me. Sebastian will show you to the cabin.”

She followed the first mate to the small dining room. The table and chairs were heavy to keep them in place, a sideboard set with an impromptu meal and several flagons of wine. He thrust a slightly cleaner apron at her.

“Put this on and stand in the corner until you’re needed.”

She obeyed mechanically, not even thinking to secret a knife into her clothes. It wouldn’t do her much good. She could hear Jim outside talking to someone with a cold, cutting tone. Then the cabin door opened and two men walked in, taking off their hats.

 

The pirate with Jim must have been another captain, from the state of his dress. His hat was as big as Jim’s, his black pants and boots plain and well-worn, his shirt a dazzling navy blue. His coat was a rich purple with silver, incredibly distinguished-looking. He had curly dark hair drawn back in a short horsetail and the most piercing blue eyes Molly had ever seen, staring straight through her.

“Meet Molly, our temporary server. Molly, this is Sherlock Holmes, captain of the _Science of Deduction_.”

“That’s an awfully long name for a ship.” She blurted out before she could stop herself, clapping her hands to her mouth.

“It’s memorable.” Captain Holmes shrugged.

“It’s a mouthful, more like,” Jim snorted, “Please, sit and tell me what’s so dreadfully important.”

“I want you to take your cargo to the nearest port and set them free.”

Moriarty paused in straightening his coattails, a strange smile on his face. “What?”

“There’s an English galleon not far from here. If you’re caught with slaves, they’ll hang you all on the spot.”

“They’ll hang us anyway for piracy.”

“All the same, I would suggest offloading your cargo.”

“This isn’t some clever ploy, is it Sherlock? Trying to get me to release my prisoners so you can snatch them up and sell them instead?”

“You know well I detest the slave trade.” The other captain inspected his nails scornfully.

Jim waved a hand at Molly and she started spooning out the food around them, hand shaking a little with nerves.

“Then why the warning?”

“I’d prefer we all keep our noses clean with this particular ship. It’s never good to attract attention.”

“I have over a thousand pieces worth of good, hardworking, pretty English meat in my larder. I’m not going to set it loose in the wilds of Spain just to _avoid attention_.”

“You should. Might save your life.”

“As if you’re so concerned with that.”

“Fine, if you won’t part with your prisoners, let me buy them off you.”

Jim laughed. “What, for half their value? I don’t think so.”

“I’ll pay full price.”

“Really?” Moriarty arched a brow, “And where would you have gotten that kind of coin?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might.”

Sherlock sighed huffily. “Look, will you sell or not?”

“Not. I have relationships to maintain with the traders.”

“Fine. Then sell me half.”

“Half?”

“You still have some to give the traders, I get the rest.”

Jim rubbed a hand over his chin. “Half for the price of the lot.”

Sherlock raised a brow but kept his mouth straight. “Done. I’ll get to pick my half, of course.”

“Fine. Shall we eat first?”

“Oh yes. Wouldn’t want to be uncivilised.”

 

Molly kept them topped up with wine while they finished the cold fowl and sundries, and then Sherlock pushed his plate away and stood.

“Shall we?”

“Come along, Molly.”

The trio headed below decks to the bottom of the ship, Jim bringing a lantern so Sherlock could inspect his wares. He pointed out half a dozen of the girls, leaving Jim the prettiest, then frowned when he spotted John.

“A man?”

“My new ship doctor.” Jim smiled.

“A doctor you say? I’ll take him too.”

“He’s not for sale.”

“I’ll give you back two of the women for him.”

Jim looked reluctant, his mouth twitching as he considered. “Fine.”

“And I’ll take Molly here too.”

“Shall I have them brought up to take with you now?”

“Please do.”

“Sebastian!” Jim called back towards the stairs as he unlocked the cage.

The first mate appeared and Moriarty nodded.

“Pick out the girls Captain Holmes points to and bring them and Dr Watson to his boat.”

Sebastian waded in, dragging women to their feet and shoving them shrieking towards the corridor. He went to grab John and the doctor stood, holding his hands up.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m going.”

As he neared Molly he bent his head.

“What’s going on?”

“Moriarty’s selling us to another captain.”

“Keep moving, no talking!” Sebastian barked.

They climbed the stairs, the women trying not to trip over their skirts. Sebastian hustled them to the side and nodded towards a rope ladder that led down to the small boat.

“Go on then.”

“I can’t!” one of the village girls whimpered.

Molly rested a hand on your arm. “Yes you can. You have to. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She edged to the very outer limit of the deck, carefully sitting until she could reach a leg over and put it on the rung. Holding on grimly she started climbing down, the chains making it hard to reach. She finally stepped off at the bottom, eyeing the two sailors sitting at the oars warily. Slowly, one by one, cringing and crying or keeping their eyes firmly up the other four girls climbed down, followed by John, and then eventually Captain Sherlock.

“Back to the ship as fast as you can.” He ordered and the men took off, pulling hard.

“Why did you do that?” Molly asked, “Why buy us if you hate slavers?”

“I didn’t need you, I just needed a good look at the inside of his ship. Now be quiet, I have to think.”

She shot John a concerned and slightly peeved look, but kept her mouth shut as they rowed the rest of the way to the ship. Another ladder was dropped and Sherlock hurried up it, leaving his men to help the villagers. Once on deck they huddled together uncertainly while the rowers started pulling up the boat, Sherlock flitting about giving instructions at the helm. A sailor with silvery grey hair waddled up with a heavy ring of keys.

“’Lo folks. Let me see if I can help with those.”

He waved a hand to John and the doctor stepped forward, holding out his shackles. The pirate tried a few keys, jiggling them in the lock until the chains popped free.

“Ah! There we go. Now hold still, I’m gonna try your feet.”

He had them all unchained quickly, rubbing their wrists where the metal had chafed away the skin. Whistling he pocketed the keys again and gathered up their bonds, heading below deck.

“Wait! What are we supposed to do now?” John asked.

“Stay out of the way, mostly,” He chuckled before disappearing through the hatch, “Donovan! Anderson! Where are my powder monkeys?”

 

Molly made a funny half-squeak and looked around. “You know, I think this is the strangest day I’ve ever had.”

“Look, what’s that?” John pointed to the coastline where towards the horizon a large galleon was rounding the headland and sweeping towards them.

Some of the sailors spotted it and gave a cheer, speeding up their movements. John ran a glance over the _Spider_ and saw Moriarty’s crew were not so pleased.

“It’s the navy. See, there’s an English flag!” Molly said excitedly.

John grinned. “Thank god, we’re saved. Quick, if they’re going to attack we should get under cover.”

“I don’t think they are going to attack.” Molly frowned, “Or at least if they are, no one on board seems very worried about it.”

It was true; though they were making the ship ready for some kind of action, none of Captain Sherlock’s crew seemed bothered by the navy. Instead they aimed their cannon at the _Spider_. The captain himself appeared near the helm, hat back on his head, grasping the rail.

“Steady!” he yelled.

The navy galleon drew up on the other side of the _Spider_ and made ready their own guns.

“Fire!”

Molly barely had time to cover her ears before there was a cacophony of booms and the ship rolled to port with the shock. There were answering booms from the galleon and Jim’s ship swayed in the water, already pulling off through the waves. The navy gave chase, firing again. Sherlock belaboured his crew, ordering their fire towards the ship even as it drew out of range.

“Captain, we can’t hit her from here. We’ll have to follow.” The silver-haired pirate said.

“Forget it. Those rum-swilling lunkheads can deal with it. Steer us towards port.”

The helmsman turned and they headed for that same cliff the navy galleon had come from, steering wide into a sizable harbour. They pulled up to the wharf, Molly and the others trying to stay inconspicuous as people ran about tying off ropes and furling sails. Sherlock came down the stairs  and took his hat off, flicking at a speck of shrapnel disinterestedly.

“Uh, captain?”

He turned to look at John as if he didn’t remember him.

“What are you going to do with us, sir?”

“Oh I suppose you can do what you like once we lower the gangplank.”

“Where are we?”

“Gibraltar, I believe. It’s a British port, you’re quite safe.”

“Captain sir, something you should see.”

“Lestrade, stop fussing.” He drawled, rolling his eyes as the little grey sailor pointed to the dock.

Sherlock went to the rail and cursed.

“What does he want?”

John looked over. A small group of naval dignitaries and officers stood waiting by the end of the gangplank, the foremost one looking splendid and rotund in his blue coat with the gold buttons gleaming. He held his sword rather like a cane, leaning on it patiently.

Captain Sherlock stepped down the plank, scowling at the group. “I did as you asked.”

“You did half. Where are the rest of the prisoners? I don’t believe Moriarty would make the trip to Constantinople for these six.”

“It was of no concern to me,” Sherlock shrugged, “Besides, he must pass this way again to sell them and you can have a second crack, if your ship isn’t already slaughtering his crew as we speak.”

“Sherlock, I gave you very specific instructions-”

“They were stupid.”

“If you can’t co-operate I won’t be able to protect you or your...unusual lifestyle choices.”

“Sorry to embarrass you with my roguish buccaneer ways. Toodle-pip, Mycroft.” He pushed past, sauntering towards the shore.

Molly looked to John for direction and he took a breath, straightening his belt. The doctor strode down and held up a hand in greeting.

“Uh, hello. I was wondering if you could help us-”

“Of course, Dr Watson. My name is Commodore Mycroft Holmes. We’ve prepared rooms for you at headquarters.”

“Holmes?” John raised a brow.

Mycroft made a face. “Unfortunately, yes. If you’ll step this way, we’ll get you all cleaned up and comfortable.”

‘Headquarters’ was a large townhouse that happened to be surrounded by a huge courtyard and long barracks. They were shown to some small but nice rooms, servants providing food and clean clothes and the right salves for John to treat their injured wrists. Molly seemed content to rest, finally able to sleep without worrying, but the doctor went to find Mycroft. He wandered through the main rooms until he found the man standing in the hall reviewing a note.

“Ah, Dr Watson. Feeling better?”

“Yes, thanks. Uh, so what happens to us now?”

“We can find a ship headed for England to take you home, if you’d like.”

He shrugged. “Home isn’t there anymore.”

“You could settle elsewhere. We’d give you a little something to establish yourself.”

John hung his head. “Who is Captain Holmes?”

Mycroft’s face tightened. “A unique kind of man.”

“A unique kind of pirate, from what I can tell. Buys slaves and then helps blow up the slavers’ ship, but doesn’t stay for the battle or give much of a toss for your opinion, by the look of it.”

“He works for himself at whatever he likes – mostly attacking other pirates and rescuing beleaguered stretches of coast. Sometimes he doesn’t sail for months and the whole crew leaves him, and then he’ll go to the Caribbean and back on a whim. He is _usually_ on our side.”

“And I’m guessing you keep the navy off him?”

“To some degree.”

John nodded slightly. “I think I’ll take a walk – too long cramped up below decks, you know.”

“Very well. Just see that you’re careful.”

 

John wrapped his coat tighter around himself and set off, trudging through the streets. He was in pretty desperate need of a drink. The doctor headed back towards the docks, figuring there’d be a slew of inns to choose from down there. He walked until he found one that seemed lively enough and headed inside. It was packed, the air hazy with tobacco smoke and the ragtag band so loud people had to shout to be heard. The bar was long and crowded, but John couldn’t see a free table. He headed for the other end, hoping to get served a little quicker there. A silver head caught his attention and he frowned, moving closer.

“Lestrade?”

“Ah, Dr John, yes? From earlier?” the first mate narrowed his gaze thoughtfully.

“That’s right.”

“What are you doing down here then?”

“Needed to be doing something. You?”

Lestrade pointed to the stairs. “I’m here with the captain.”

“Sherlock?” John’s brows raised.

“Yessir. He’s not much of a one for the drink but he likes to watch everyone else. You should come up and say hello.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“Nonsense! Here,” Lestrade handed him a tankard from the two just poured, “My treat.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Follow me.”

The sailor led him through the rough mobs spilling over the tables to the staircase, leading him up to a sort of gallery of private rooms. He pushed open the carved screen of the one with the best view of the door and revealed Sherlock slumped in a chair moodily.

“Captain, you remember Dr Watson?”

“Of course.”

“I invited him up, hope you don’t mind.”

Sherlock shrugged as they sat. “Makes no difference to me.”

“Uh, thanks,” John smiled slightly, “So any word on what happened to the _Spider_?”

Sherlock’s mouth twisted. “Escaped.”

John sighed and looked down, and the captain raised a brow.

“You’re disappointed.”

“Of course I’m disappointed. James Moriarty killed my whole village, burned it to the ground and tried to sell my last friends into slavery. I was hoping you’d say he was dead.”

“I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Not disappointed. If he were dead, there’d be no one worthwhile to chase.”

John gave Lestrade a dubious, stunned look but the first mate just shrugged and took another draw at his ale.

“Is that what you do? Chase pirates and then let them get away?”

The cold tone made Sherlock smile wryly. “Does that upset you?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Why? I’m a pirate too, or nearabouts. Nothing I do should surprise you.”

“You’re not a real pirate. If you were, you wouldn’t be helping the navy. Or is that more about your brother?”

Sherlock scowled. “Mycroft has no say in how I choose to behave, much to his dismay. If you’re going to be so boring and moral, doctor, you’ll forgive me for saying an early goodnight.”

John held up a hand. “Wait. I...I don’t have anywhere to go. And I don’t want to set up shop somewhere new and pretend it never happened. I mean, how could I go back to my old life after something like this?”

“Not to mention your insatiable urge for revenge against the murdering Captain Moriarty.” Sherlock added.

“So if you say you chase pirates or whatever, then I’d like to join you.”

“Join me?” he pursed his lips.

“Yes. If that’s alright.”

“Do you have much experience sailing, doctor?”

“Uh, no, but I could learn. And besides, having a surgeon around’s always handy, you agree?”

Sherlock twitched his lips. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a simple, peaceful man John. You’re angry, and you want payback, but what about after you get it?”

He leaned over the table, blue eyes boring into John’s until he couldn’t look away.

“Go back to your work, give it some time. You’re not the sort of man who should be living as we do.”

With a nod to Lestrade the first mate drained his tankard and stood, straightening his belt as Sherlock copied.

“Thank you for the offer, but I think it best we go our separate ways.”

They walked out, leaving John holding his ale angrily. He watched the tall captain sweep across the inn as if he owned it, hat bobbing in the crowd.

*****

Molly was leaving the house as John entered.

“Oh, hello. Where you off to then?” he nodded at the basket on her arm.

“Commodore Holmes asked me to take some things to the governor’s.”

“Care for some company?”

“That would be lovely, thanks.”

“Here, let me carry that.” He eased the burden off her, walking towards the gate.

“So have you thought about what you’re going to do now?” she asked, hands clasped behind her.

John frowned. “No. Yes. Nothing definite. What about you?”

“I think I’ll stay. They’ve offered me a place in one of the officers’ residences.”

“That’s great!”

“I suppose. I didn’t really have a reason to leave. Some of the other girls have taken work too.”

“I don’t think I could stay, Molly. I feel...restless. I can’t stop thinking about before, all the people we lost.”

She reached out and took his hand. “I know. You have to try though. They’re with God now. They would want you to be happy.”

He blushed and shook his hand free. “I guess. So, do you know the way to the governor’s?”

Molly stopped and bit her lip, looking at the busy intersection. “Not entirely.”

“Here, we’ll ask someone,” John strode towards a figure in the doorway of a butcher’s, “Excuse me?”

The man turned and John froze. Jim Moriarty smiled sinisterly at him.

“Why if it isn’t my favourite doctor? And the beautiful Molly. Good to see you again, Miss Hooper.”

She drew closer to John, shivering, and he looked around, ready to yell for help. Another man stepped out of the butcher; Sebastian, hand on his sword hilt. Jim steepled his fingers in front of him.

“You know, it’s a shame we didn’t have more time together. I think Miss Molly’s more than meets the eye.”

“Stay away from her.” John clenched his jaw.

“Are you going to make me?” Jim tilted his head.

“Molly, run!” John shoved her behind him, raising the basket as a weapon.

Sebastian blocked the blow with his arm as Jim side-stepped them and ran after the girl. He could hear John and Sebastian wrestling in the street as he tailed her through crooked back alleys, jumping over puddles and ducking laundry and loose window shutters. He could hear her breathing heavily, clutching at her skirts as she ran.

“I’m going to get you, Molly my love! You can’t run forever!”

He laughed mockingly and she bit off a sob, sprinting down another street. She chanced a look back and couldn’t see him, slowing almost to a stop. She waited, panting, but he didn’t appear. Molly drew herself up and turned, running straight into Jim’s arms with a scream.

“See? Gotcha!”

 

Sebastian managed to floor John with a right hook, and as he struggled to his elbows he spotted the red coats of the army nearby.

“Help! Help, pirate!”

The soldiers turned and saw the two men, hurrying closer. Sebastian threw them a scornful glance and winked at John.

“Next time, doctor.”

He skipped away, one of the men giving pursuit as the other helped John up.

“You alright, sir?”

“Molly,” he looked around, “Where’s Molly?”

“Who, sir?”

John grabbed his arms. “Did you see a woman running? Brown hair, blue skirts, young and pretty?”

“No, sorry. She a friend of yours?”

John closed his eyes. “Oh god. Thank you.”

He ran back towards the navy headquarters, stampeding through the gate. He ignored the outraged cries of a maid as he knocked the laundry out of her hands, running upstairs to Mycroft’s office. He knocked, trying to catch his breath.

“Come in.”

He opened the door and stood before the large desk. Mycroft raised a brow.

“Dr Watson? What seems to be the trouble?”

“Jim Moriarty, he’s here, in the city. I just saw him. His first mate knocked me down.”

“You’re certain?” Holmes’ mouth straightened grimly as he stood.

“I think he took Molly – Miss Hooper. She ran, but he went after her. I didn’t see what happened to them.”

“Very well. I’ll send my men to the usual hideouts, see if we can find them.”

“You have to find them, sir, it’s Molly.”

“We shall try our very best.” He inclined his head, ringing the bell on his desk.

John took that as his cue, leaving with a heavy heart. Once he was out of sight of the office he leaned against the wall, clenching his eyes.

“They won’t find him. Moriarty’s too clever.”

The silky, deep tones made him snap to attention. Captain Sherlock stood against the opposite wall in the ordinary costume of a navy sailor.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you sort of in enemy territory?”

“As if any of these Limeys noticed me. Mycroft won’t be able to get her back.”

John sagged again. He’d suspected as much. He looked up at the clever captain watching him idly and had a thought.

“You could.”

“I could what?”

“Find them. Help me save her.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you said you wanted to catch him, right? Here’s your chance.”

Sherlock looked doubtful. “I said I wanted to catch him. I never said I wanted him caught.”

“So let him go again. It’s the finding him that’s important, right? Help me find Molly and get her out and I won’t tell anyone if you let Moriarty go free.”

The captain looked doubtful for a moment. “Fine. Let’s go.”

 

Molly was sitting with her fists clenched in her apron, but when the door opened she backed up hurriedly, facing the pirate. Sebastian slung a heap of teal silk at her and she belatedly caught it.

“Put this on. Captain wants you dressed for dinner.”

“Am I serving again or does he expect me to eat?” she sniffed, drawing herself up stiffly.

The blond gave her a mocking smile. “I believe you _are_ dinner. Get dressed. You don’t want me to have to help you.”

He went out and locked the door again, and she screwed up her face. Why was she even here? What did the captain want with her, of all people? But rather than see if Sebastian made good on his threat, she hurriedly stripped off her apron and dress and wrangled herself into the voluminous gown. It was much finer than anything she’d ever worn, and she made an effort to smooth back her hair, working out the tangles of the day with her fingers.

There was a warning knock and she straightened. “I’m decent!”

It opened and Jim stepped in. He was more casual than before in tan breeches and a white shirt under a waistcoat the same shade as her dress. He smiled and extended an arm.

“Miss Hooper. Shall we?”

She took it, sticking her nose up at him, and he guided her out into the hall. It was nothing like the bare cellar behind them. Here the lamps shone brightly on gilt-framed portraits and vases, on shining wooden boards and cream stucco walls. Jim led her to a dining room that looked like a prince’s, the table set with silver and the long drapes drawn against shuttered windows. Sebastian pulled out chairs for them both and they sat, a manservant in a black waistcoat pouring their wine. Sebastian gave the servant a wary look and sipped from Jim’s glass before handing it to the pirate.

He smiled at Molly’s confused look. “You can never be too careful.”

“Do people try to poison you a lot?”

“It happens.”

“Good.”

Jim laughed. “I must say you’re terribly bad-mannered for a guest.”

“I wasn’t aware being snatched off the street counted as an invitation.”

“I don’t have much practice in entertaining. Forgive me.”

She scowled and sliced at her dinner aggressively. She put the forkful in her mouth and chewed, looking at him. Jim’s chin rested on his clasped hands as he watched her.

“You’re not eating?”

“I find my appetite running to...other delicacies.”

Molly swallowed and dragged her knife over the plate slowly, trying to avoid his leer. Jim tiptoed his fingers over the table and closed them around her wrist.

“What are you doing?” she said breathlessly.

“You know those other girls for your pathetic spit of a village? Nice enough, pretty, probably well-educated in all the right housework. In Bursa or Constantinople they would fetch a decent price, but nothing special.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you, Molly, would fetch considerably more. You’re clever. You’re brave, but it’s an effort. You prefer to be submissive. You think if you’re quiet you’ll go unnoticed and you know it’s a lot less trouble. You don’t have an unkind bone in your body, and you could learn to like almost anyone. You’re attractive enough that with the right garments I could have sold you as an _odalisque_.”

Her eyes widened for a moment and she looked away, but Jim tutted.

“Don’t fret, my dear. I’m not planning on letting you go now.”

He raised a hand to stroke her cheek and she pushed her chair backwards. Within an instant Jim had her by the throat, dragging her out of the seat and slamming her back against the wall. Molly clawed at his fingers as his breath washed over her face.

“Don’t be offended if I don’t ask your opinion – I don’t ask anyone’s.”

He closed his lips on hers and she wriggled, protesting as loudly as she could as she pushed at his shoulders. But Jim’s hand tightened slightly on her throat and she went still, enduring the touch of his mouth until he pulled back gently.

“See? Submissive.”

“They’ll be looking for me, and when they find you-”

“Oh I have no doubt they’re looking, but rest assured Molly. I can’t be found if I don’t want to be. We’ll have a very long time to get to know each other.”

 

John tried to keep up as he followed Sherlock through the streets, dodging puddles of muck as they rose out of the darkness.

“Where are we going?”

“Uptown. To the posh houses.” The captain glanced over his shoulder with a smug smile.

“What? But the commodore said-”

“That they’d be checking all the usual favourite hideouts. If James Moriarty was any other pirate, doubtless they’d find him in some dark, dirty hole in a cellar. He’s not. He’s audacious, he’s wealthy and he doesn’t do grime.”

“How do you know so much about him?” John dodged a low-hanging shop sign.

“Same way I know you received your medical training in London before joining the army for several years and retiring with a shoulder wound to your hometown.”

John stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“It’s simple, really. Written all over your face and knees. As for Moriarty, we’re a little acquainted. Our paths have crossed before.”

“How did you-”

“Mycroft didn’t tell you? I read people and I have made my life a study of the obscure and obvious.”

“Well. That’s...handy.”

Sherlock gave him a slightly scornful look and kept walking.

“How long do you think it will take to find him?”

“We can rule out the Governor’s at least, but after that it will take some legwork to find out who lives where. Once I have a fair idea we’ll call in my crew and raid the house.”

“We have to hurry. She can’t protect herself from a man like him. What if...what if...”

“He makes an attack on her virtue? Doubtful. He likes to play with his food first. We have time.”

“How can you be so sure?” John said, his frustration bleeding into his tone enough to make Sherlock stop.

“What is your relationship with Miss Hooper?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you love her? If you have some kind of feelings that may compromise our search later, I need to know.”

“We’ve known each other since we were very young. She’s been like family to me since my brother died.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.” John shrugged.

The brigand scanned his face for a moment in the dull light of a nearby lamp before humming to himself. “Let’s keep moving. There’s a tavern nearby that might be helpful.”

*****

Molly had been terrified, but after his forced kiss Jim had walked back to the table, rung a small bell and a moment later Sebastian was taking her upstairs to a different room. It was the most luxurious she’d ever seen: a dressing table with a real mirror and several small pots of cosmetics, a huge canopied bed with lace curtains, a wardrobe full of dresses as fine as the one she was wearing and a clawfoot tub in the corner behind a screen. The first mate closed the door behind her with a nod and she heard the lock turn with a click.

She’d tried to sleep but couldn’t. The windows were barred, the door sturdy. She had nothing to do but wait like a bird in a cage until Jim felt like tormenting her some more, yet she couldn’t sleep. She was almost afraid to, worried she wouldn’t wake up if the door opened. Molly tried to concentrate on the fact that if John had gotten away from Sebastian, he’d already have half the British forces in Gibraltar out after her. Surely a rescue couldn’t be too far away. Somehow she managed to relax enough that she did nod off, waking at the soft sounds of clinking crockery somewhere near her head.

Molly opened her eyes blearily and scrambled back against the headboard as she realised someone was standing over her. There was a cluck and the old maid shook her head.

“Hush, dear, I’m just bringing your breakfast.”

She glanced at the small table by the bed. There was a bowl of porridge with honey and milk pots, and she realised she hadn’t eaten much of her dinner.

“Um, thank you.”

The servant bobbed a curtsey and headed for the door.

“Wait! Who are you?”

“Angelica, miss.”

“And you work for the captain?”

“I’m his housekeeper.”

“Please, you’ve got to let me out of here. He’s keeping me prisoner, and I think...I think he has very dishonourable intentions.”

The housekeeper looked her over head to toe and sniffed. “The master has a lot of odd notions. I’ll be back for those when they’re empty.”

She let herself out and Molly heard the lock again. Her common sense told her there was no point missing a perfectly good meal, so she dragged herself out of bed and ate. When she’d finished she went to the cupboard, pawing through the rich satins and silks and velvets of the dresses there. She didn’t want to wear anything of Jim’s, but she decided it was safer than walking around in her nightgown. She picked a light linen dress in a mint green with slashed sleeves that showed the white layer underneath. The neckline was lower than she’d like, straight across her shoulders, but it seemed more comfortable than the heavier formal gowns. She brushed out her hair and tied it back, and sat at the dressing table to wait.

 

“So you’re saying you’ve never seen him?” Sherlock frowned, “Short dark hair, Irish accent, not very tall, well dressed?”

The innkeeper shook his head. “We get a lot of dark, well-dressed men in here.”

“But the accent – you’d remember that.” John pressed.

“Aye, I would, and I don’t. Sorry gents.”

He wandered off and Watson sighed. “That’s the third person who’s said that. Are people really so scared of Moriarty?”

“Anyone with half a brain should be, but no, this just means he’s careful. Lets his mouthpiece speak in public.”

“So ask about Sebastian.”

“That ruffian? People know better than to talk about someone like that. He’s a lot more intimidating than Jim, until the good captain shows his hand.”

“So what now then? Go back and see if Mycroft’s had any luck?”

Sherlock scoffed. “Of course not. He’s clever but he’ll never think even Moriarty would be daring enough to live amongst the lawmakers and city chiefs. His search will be firmly fixed on the seedy end of town. Now we go to the streets.”

He headed outside, John fighting to keep up again with those long legs. They kept walking towards the nicer houses, the streets here filled with servants in uniform going about their masters’ business. Sherlock waited until he saw a very young woman in a navy blue skirt and cap, and stepped into her path so that he knocked her basket from her hand.

“Oh goodness! Oh I’m so sorry!” he knelt to help her rescue the apples rolling away.

“No, my apologies sir, I didn’t see you.”

He smiled, and it was so charmingly and unusual on the captain’s face that John’s brows shot up.

“Entirely my fault. Here, let me give you a hand.”

He helped the girl up and she smiled, blushing slightly as she brushed off her skirts.

“Say, you wouldn’t be able to assist us, would you? I have a message for a Sebastian Moran. I was told he lived up this way, but for the life of me I can’t remember which house.”

She looked suspicious for a second, face guarded, but he gave her another of those disarming smiles and she grinned.

“It’s on Regent’s Street. Go up this road a tad more and then third right. It’s the big white house, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much. Have a nice afternoon, miss.”

“And you, sir.”

She walked off, basket tucked securely under her arm. Sherlock headed for the street and John gave a half-laugh.

“That was amazing. You were almost pleasant.”

“I can be anything I need to be whenever I need to be it.” He said dismissively.

“Huh. Alright, so we’re going to see the house? Get an idea of the grounds for later?”

“Exactly. I see you haven’t completely forgotten your training.”

John shrugged. “I remember what I need to when I need to remember it.”

Sherlock gave him a look and strode on and John smiled to himself, catching up.

 

It was late afternoon before anyone came back, and it was only the housekeeper taking her breakfast things and laying out lunch instead. Molly didn’t even try to talk to her, certain she knew only too well what kind of man her employer was. She ate with gusto, hoping that it would be enough to sustain her until morning. She certainly wasn’t going to accept another invitation to dine with Jim, no matter how hard they tried to convince her otherwise. She was not fool enough to make it easy for him.

Molly should have been bored, sitting so patiently, but she had too much to worry over. She stayed vigilant, listening for even the tiniest hint of a footstep in the hall outside or a noise at the window that might suggest a rescue attempt. When it started to get dark, Angelica came to light the tapers before leaving again. Molly was starting to relax, thinking it was too late for supper, when there was a knock.

“Miss Hooper?” Sebastian’s gruff tones came through.

“Yes?”

“The Captain is ready for you at the table.”

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

Silence greeted her answer, and she waited on the edge of her seat but there was nothing else. Molly sighed and stood, deciding she would ready herself for an early night. The door opened, Jim sweeping in with Sebastian and Angelica behind him. The servants set her small table with the full accompaniments of a proper supper, silver cutlery and table linen with a large candlestick and platters.

“I heard you weren’t hungry, so I thought I’d come up and make sure you’re feeling alright.”

“Fine, thank you.” She said stiffly.

“You’re sure you’re not unwell? A sudden lack of appetite is most concerning.”

“I am only tired.”

“Ah, well if that’s the case you must rest. I shall keep you company.”

He sat at the table, starting his meal as Sebastian and the housekeeper left and locked the door behind them. Molly hesitated, not sure what to do.

“Really, Miss Hooper, sit down before you fall asleep on your feet.” He pointed his knife at the edge of the bed.

She didn’t want to get that close to him, but she sat, carefully arranging her skirts to give herself an excuse not to look at him. She could hear Jim chewing, his fork stabbing at the plate.

“How do you like the room?”

“It’s lovely.”

“Feel free to ask if there’s anything you need. I cannot promise I’ll give it to you, but ask all the same.”

“How about a key?”

Jim laughed. “Now that I definitely can’t do. Can’t have you running off before we get a chance to know each other better.”

“You’re a villain, do you know that?” Molly said sharply, eyes bright with the tears she’d been holding back, “You’re a scoundrel.”

He chewed slower, as if considering. “Of course, my dear. All the best commanders are.”

She clenched her jaw. He wanted submissive? She’d give him that.

“Fine,” she stood, undoing the lacing on the front of her bodice, “If all you want is to ruin me, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

He quirked his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Speeding up the inevitable. You’re going to keep me locked in here until I break, until I let you have your disgusting victory. Take it then, you despicable creature, and leave me in peace.”

She finished shucking the gown off, stepping out so she stood before him in just her underthings, the long petticoat almost see-through in the candlelight. Jim raised a brow and sat back.

“You _are_ a puzzle, my dear. Defiant and meek at the same time. You want to fight but you know you can’t so you’re trying to keep the upper hand by pretending you have some ounce of control in this.”

“I don’t see how it matters to you why I’m doing it, so long as you get what you want.” She fought the urge to cover herself from his evaluating gaze.

Jim stood and came closer and she stiffened but held herself still. He leaned in and sniffed her neck, mouth hovering by her ear.

“Who says this is what I want?”

She took a shaky breath at the rough, low tones and he walked to the door and knocked. It unlocked and he left with a mocking bow, leaving Molly trembling in her skirts, hands clapped over her eyes as she wept.

 

“What are we waiting for?” John hissed.

Sherlock didn’t take his eyes off the house. “The servants will go to bed soon.”

“And Moriarty?” the doctor peered at the faint light coming from several windows.

“Probably won’t sleep until dawn, if he goes to bed at all. He has a vast fleet to keep track of.”

Sherlock looked over at Lestrade, crouching behind the wall with them. The first mate was fingering the curved flintlock in his belt.

“The others are in position?”

“Course. Nobody moves until I give the signal.”

“Good. If he sees me and John he’ll assume I have people outside, but I don’t want him to see how many until it’s absolutely necessary.”

“You think we can get her out without being seen?”

“It’s possible, if we’re careful.”

A candle went out in one of the front rooms, followed by another, until the only light they could see was in an upstairs chamber. John threw an anxious glance at the captain and he nodded, stealing out into the street. The two of them stuck close to the road, walking at a half-crouch until they reached the wall around Moriarty’s house. It wasn’t as low as the other, but with a boost from John Sherlock got to the top and reached a hand back for the doctor.

“Ready?”

John nodded and dropped down, wincing as his knees complained. He stole towards the house, keeping an eye out for sentries as Sherlock had advised. There was no one at the front of the house, where it would be remarked on, but as he neared the back door he spotted a man sitting on the porch with a rifle across his lap. He cursed inwardly and flattened himself against the wall, looking back for Sherlock. The captain was close behind and he followed John’s pointing finger with a nod. He slipped back into the shadows of the garden and John lost sight of him; a moment later there was a muffled grunt and Sherlock’s curly head stuck out around the corner.

“Come on.”

He hurried along, stepping over the unconscious guard as Holmes picked the lock.

“No bolt?” John whispered.

“Couldn’t, not with him out here.” He jerked his head at the sentry.

The door opened with a quiet click and Sherlock eased it just wide enough for them to slip through. They stepped into a large kitchen, the flagstones clean and neat, the long wooden benches recently polished. John drew his pistol and led the way out into the hall, cautious of where he was putting his feet. The servants would be sleeping somewhere nearby, and waking them up would be a very big complication. Sherlock was like a shadow beside him, blending into the dark walls as he moved ahead soundlessly. They came to the stairs and Sherlock mounted the banister, rather than risk a creaky board. He hauled himself up as easily as if it were the rigging of his ship, leaving John to scramble after him awkwardly.

They reached the second floor and looked around. Molly would be up here somewhere, but they weren’t entirely sure which room. Sherlock took a step forward and suddenly there was a sharp click and something cold and hard pressed into the back of John’s head.

“Hands up – slowly.” Sebastian said.

 

Sherlock spun as if planning on doing something, but there was a slither of drawn steel and a light appeared in the corner of the landing, Moriarty smiling at them over the candelabrum.

“Don’t do anything hasty, Sherlock. You’re a little outnumbered.”

More men stepped out of the nearby rooms, swords drawn. They each held a lamp, making the hall as clear as day. Sherlock ground his teeth.

“I see we’re expected.”

“No, not you specifically. I just take a great care with my security.”

He held his light higher, peering around Sherlock at the sweating doctor.

“Ah, and Dr Watson. What a charming rescue party. I had no idea you were the type, Holmes.”

“I’m all for a good ambush.”

“And yet we seem to be the ones who ambushed you. Unfortunate.”

“Rather.”

“I assume you’re here for Miss Hooper, but you’ll be leaving empty-handed I’m afraid. I’ve grown quite fond of her. She’s surprisingly bold when she wants to be.”

John growled. “If you’ve laid one finger on her-”

“You’ll what, splatter your brains over my face when Sebastian pulls the trigger? Seems a bit of a wasted effort.”

“Why would you be interested in her?” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, “She’s ordinary.”

“Is she?” Jim raised his brows, “Well, you’re the expert. I find her quite amusing.”

“Enough to keep her?”

“Evidently.”

John twitched in frustration. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. How was Sherlock going to call Lestrade now?

“Molly!” He yelled, looking at the closed doors, “Molly, it’s John!”

“Oh God, you’re so adorable. Isn’t he sweet, Sherlock?”

“Molly!”

“She’s quite well, if you’re worried. I haven’t laid a finger on her, as you so delicately put it. Well apart from a brief kiss, but she seemed to like it, given that she was propositioning me not two hours ago.”

“You bastard.” John hissed.

“Shall we see what she has to say on the subject?”

 

 

She’d gone to bed after Jim left, exhausted, but at the sound of men talking outside Molly had started to wake. When she heard someone yelling her name she sat up. She could just make out the voice, and her heart sank.

“Oh god John, what have you done?”

She got up and threw on her gown, coming closer to listen. A moment later the door was yanked open and she stumbled back as Jim smiled in at her.

“Evening, Molly. Did we wake you? So sorry for the disruption. It’s all Sherlock’s fault, you see.”

“Molly!” John sighed with relief.

“Quiet.” Sebastian prodded the gun into the back of his head.

“What are you going to do?” she asked softly, peering at the two men.

Jim made a thoughtful face. “Well, they’re intruders, so I thought I’d kill them.”

“Please don’t.”

“Why not? They’re trespassing with nefarious purpose on my property. They were planning to kidnap one of my guests, maybe even kill me! No one could tell me I don’t have the right to shoot them in self-defence.”

“Wait,” she grabbed his sleeve, “I...I’ll do whatever you want. You can have me, I’ll be yours, I won’t try to run away. I’ll stay here with you a-a-and be your lover if that’s what you want.”

She looked down as John made an angry noise but Jim tilted her head up with his hand, licking his lips.

“You already tried that earlier, if you recall.”

“That was different. I’ll do this happily – willingly. Doesn’t that make a difference?”

He leaned closer, smile wide like a shark. “My dear, whatever made you think I wanted you willing?”

John gave a shout and started forward but Moran had him by the back of his shirt in a second, gun jammed closer as a reminder. Jim threw a long, mocking look at Sherlock as Molly quivered under his touch.

“You know, I think this works much better. Two birds, one stone. I get what I want and I get to torture your brave menfolk a little first.”

“No!” John cried, bristling in Sebastian’s grasp as Jim seized Molly by the hair and dragged her into the room, kicking the door shut.

She struggled against the painful tug, tripping over her feet as he hauled her to the bed and threw her down. Jim shrugged off his house robe and climbed over her, ripping open her bodice. Molly shrieked and clawed at him but he batted her hands away easily, sinking his teeth into her neck. She screamed and bucked, heart racing with panic as a hand crept up her thigh possessively.

 

John breathed through his teeth as Molly screamed. “Sherlock, do something!”

“What do you want me to do?” he waved a hand at the half-dozen men standing around them with weapons out.

“I don’t know, you seem to be the clever one. Sherlock, listen to what he’s doing to her!”

There was another harsh screech and Holmes flinched. He sighed. “I don’t see what we can do.”

“Sherlock!” John gaped.

The captain flicked his eyes pointedly at Sebastian and John stopped, catching on. He gave the smallest nod possible and balled up his fists.

“You louse. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

“I’d be surprised it’s taken you so long to figure that out, but then you are rather dense for a surgeon.”

“You cold, heartless monster. You’re just as bad as Moriarty!”

The men had drawn a bit closer, eager to hear the fight. Sherlock saw the one at his elbow get just in reach and smiled scornfully.

“Please. I’m much worse.”

His elbow shot out and caught the man in the temple, dropping him. John flung his foot back into Moran’s knee and the first mate stumbled, falling back on the stairs. The rifle clattered out of his hands and fell to the floor below. Sherlock ducked a sword swing and heaved the man over his back onto the floor.

“How do we signal Lestrade?” John called as he grappled with a pirate.

Sherlock sidestepped his opponent’s thrust and grabbed the back of his coat, slinging him through the window. The glass shattered as he yelled, tumbling into the yard.

“Like that.”

Molly screamed and John straightened.

“Come on, we need to get in there!”

 

Jim had one hand curled cruelly in her hair, laughing between the teasing flicks of his tongue up her neck and cheek. The other squeezed her waist as he thrust into her, the heat of his torso burning her even with the fabric of their night things bunched between them. Molly squeaked again as another particularly rough movement wrenched her head back, his nails digging into her head. She could hear fighting outside, but it was nothing compared to the raw hatred welling up inside her. Jim almost cackled as their eyes locked, the savage lust in his gaze making her sick. She clenched her jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction of any more screaming, but he bit her shoulder and she couldn’t help it.

“Molly, Molly, Molly. You make such sweet sounds.”

She glared and punched him, yelling at the flare of pain in her hand as his head snapped back. Jim growled and pressed forward, pushing her back into the mattress.

“If you think that’s going to spoil my enjoyment, you’re very wrong.”

There were shouts outside and Jim looked over his shoulder, scowling even as he kept moving. Molly glanced around for something, anything. There was a hand mirror on her bedside table, the handle just out of reach. She glanced back up at Jim and smiled malevolently.

“What?” he frowned.

“Oh James, yes, oh please, don’t stop!” she moaned.

“What are you doing?” he panted.

Molly dug her nails into his shoulders. “Don’t stop!”

He shook his head. “If you were a better actress I might think you were enjoying this, but I know you’re just trying to upset me. It’s alright; I like it when you show that creative spark.”

He leaned in and licked her lips and she gave the most seductive groan she could muster.

“Oh yes Jim. Again.”

Instead of going limp or fighting as he might have expected, she clung harder, urging him on. Jim scowled but he was distracted, enough that she was able to half sit up and kiss him.

Jim dragged his face away in disgust. “This is pathetic, Molly.”

He pushed her back onto the pillows and flicked his hips harder, determined to hurt her. But Molly smiled – she’d managed to fall closer to the table, as planned. She reached out a hand and closed it around the handle of the mirror.

 

John could hear Lestrade and the others battling their way in downstairs, but he was more concerned by the sudden silence from Molly’s room. With a fury he’d never felt before, he ploughed his way through the pirates around him and Sherlock. The captain fought well, but John had rage and that more than matched any skill at that moment. He flattened the last crewman and looked at Sherlock for a second before running to the door. He rattled the handle but it was locked.

“Sherlock!”

There was a crack and a chunk of plaster exploded in front of John’s face. They both looked at the stairs, where Sebastian had pulled himself back up. He cocked the rifle again at John.

“I’ll handle this. Get her out!” Sherlock turned, attacking the first mate.

John shouldered the door, throwing his whole weight against it. There was a dull crack but it held. He tried again, hammering his body against it until the lock gave and he fell into the room, only just righting himself. He drew his pistol and ran towards the bed.

“Molly!”

He stopped, drawing up short. She was sitting on the edge, ragged shreds of her gown drawn around her. She seemed completely oblivious to the holes and tears exposing her, blood dripping down over the collar from several bites to her neck. Her face was red from crying but she turned blank, hard eyes on him as he stared at Moriarty’s corpse beside her, a chunk of glass several inches long sticking out of his neck. There was a broken mirror on the bedside table, and small cuts over Molly’s fingers as they lay in her lap.

“You’re hurt.” He knelt, taking her by her wrists gingerly. He could see bruises forming everywhere.

“I’m alright.”

“No, no you’re not. Come on, I need to bandage these.”

“John...don’t. Please.” She looked down at him wearily.

“Don’t what?” he frowned.

“Be so nice to me.”

“Molly Hooper, you just killed a very bad man. You’re a hero. The least I can do is be nice.”

He smiled at her kindly and she bit her lip, letting out a sob. John stood and grabbed a cloak from the wardrobe, wrapping it around her and lifting her into his arms.

“Come on Moll. Let’s get you out of here.”

*****

She had finally gone to sleep, so John let himself out of her room quietly, almost bumping into someone.

“Oh, sorry – Sherlock?”

The captain smiled uncomfortably. “Dr Watson.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Mycroft. There’s been a lot of uh, turmoil, with Moriarty’s sudden passing and all. Lots of loose ends to tie up.”

“And Mycroft’s asked you to help?”

 “It might be fun,” Sherlock shrugged, eyes flicking to Molly’s door, “How...how is she?”

“Better. Her wounds are healing. She won’t let me tell anyone what happened but I think the commodore knows, as well as one or two of the female servants. I told them if they said anything I’d practice my brain surgery on them.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Do you think they believed it?”

“I meant it, so yes.”

Sherlock nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll be off. Got to make the ship ready.”

“Sounds grand.”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

Sherlock smiled. “I’ll need a doctor, right? Chasing dangerous pirates. Not even I can get away unscathed all the time.”

“I suppose.”

“And you are handy with a pistol.”

“Most of the time. What about Molly?” John sighed, “I don’t want to leave her, especially now...but this is no hunt for a woman.”

“Even one as fierce as Molly Hooper?” Sherlock teased gently.

“Even so.”

“Alright then. We’ll be leaving at high tide tomorrow. See that you’re on board by then.”

John nodded as Sherlock walked away, leaning back against the wall.

 

He couldn’t tell Molly to her face. John hated being a coward, but he knew if he saw her he wouldn’t be able to leave. He wrote a letter and left it with the Commodore’s stern promise to read it to her once Sherlock’s ship left port. Throwing his duffel bag over one shoulder and decked in sensible, sea-faring clothes, John walked down to the docks and found the _Science of Deduction_.

“Ah, Dr Watson!” Lestrade grinned at the top of the gangplank, “We’d almost given up on you.”

John smiled. “I had a few last minute things to sort out.”

“I’ll show you to your cabin.”

He followed the first mate below decks. The doctor’s room was near the galley, a small cabin with a hammock and a long table for examining the wounded. There were shelves with locking doors for his supplies and a few trunks for equipment and dressings. He nodded.

“It’s great.”

“I told you he’d like it.” Sherlock waltzed in, hands behind his back.

“I still say it’s a bit plain.”

John’s jaw dropped as Molly entered behind the captain. She was in a bright purple bodice with a white undershirt, but instead of skirts she had tall boots and trousers like a man. There was a short dagger on her belt and she stood with her hands on her hips, looking at the cabin.

“What is she doing here?” he demanded.

“She asked to come.” Sherlock said nonchalantly.

“This is ridiculous! It’s too dangerous. Molly, you have to stay.” John shook his head.

“Technically she asked same as you, so she has every right to come.”

Molly smiled. “Come on, Johnny. I’ll be fine. I’ve done almost as much sailing as you. And let’s not forget I’ve already killed one very bad man.”

He scowled. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Don’t be such a fusspot, doctor.”

“Sir, we need you on deck.” Lestrade reminded him, heading out.

“I’ll be there in a moment. Will you children play nicely?”

“I’m sure we will, right John?” Molly smiled.

He raised his hands helplessly. “Sure. Why not? It’s not like my life could get any stranger.”

Sherlock laughed. “Oh poor John. You have no idea.”


End file.
